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HESPER-PHOSPHOR 

AND 

OTHER POEMS 

BY 

JOHN WILLIAM SCHOLL 

AUTHOR OF 

♦■ THE LIGHT-BEARER OF LIBERTY. ETC." 

"SOCIAL TRAGEDIES. ETC." "AN 

ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE." 



'Nonumque prematur in annum' — Horace 



1910 

George Wahr, Bookseller 

ann arbor, michigan 






Copyrighted xgio 

by 

J. W. SCHOLL 



THE ANN ARBOK PRESS 



©c/. 



^268554 



^ ^ This Edition is limited to two hundred and 
Jri fifty copies, each numbered and autographed by 
the author. Two hundred copies are offered for 
sale, of which this copy is Number 



CONTENTS 



Hespdr-Phosphor 


Page i 


A Gray Day . . 


" 35 


Ben Hadad . . . . 


" 39 


Bai,i,ad of the: Good Ship, 




''Dauntless'' 


" 43 


Mid Clover Blooms 


" 46 


The Vanished Woods 


" 48 


A Song oe Renewal 


" 51 


Imperfection 


" 55 


Sonnet .... 


" 56 



HESPER-PHOSPHOR. 

Creak the icy maples drooping o'er the hedge's 

crystal wall, 
And the sheeted pinetrees shudder till their 

ghostly burdens fall. 

Shrouded thick in moonlit whiteness lies the 
pavement and the street, 

And the lawn, shrub-tufted, glitters with the 
fret-work of the sleet. 

Stiffened in his mail of hoar-frost, gone for aye 

his fruited prime. 
Lies the old Year, dying, dying, waiting for the 

midnight chime. 

Let us keep the wonted vigil! While the dying 

hours go by. 
While his frosted breath is on us, let us watch 

the old Year die! 

Many a midnight by the firelight have we 
watched the old Year out. 

Greeted then the new-born Year, and hailed 
eachother with a shout. 



And the night grew wild with whistles, and the 

merry anvil's sound 
Woke the village, woke the sleeping countryside 

for miles around. 

But tonight be hushed alarum ! Peace brood o'er 

us far and near, 
For a wondrous Age is passing with the passing 

of the Year! 

And the youngest of us here will pass away 

gray-bearded men. 
Be forgotten as these verses, when a century 

dawns again! 

Vale! Vale! Strokes of midnight! Rustle of 

the sable pall ! 
Vale ! Vale ! Parting splendor ! Hush and 

pomp funereal ! 

Grandest Age of all the ages since the march 

of mind began 
From the dull unconscious atom to the crowning 

type of man ! 

First a million million ages ere the rolling year 

was born, 
Then a hundred million slumbered ere as yet 

'twas early morn ! 

"Out of Chaos into Cosmos!" was the infinite 
decree, 

And at dawn the dry land lifted from the uni- 
versal sea, 



And the vapors hung and brooded o'er the hot 

and humid earth 
Till the tepid Ocean labored in her myriad 

myriad birth ! 



Life from Death? Aye, Life from Death, — a 
wonder grown familiar now, — 

Though remains unanswered still the old sphinx- 
riddle of the "How?" 

Ask no final Whence? nor Whither? 'Tis 
enough to watch the sweep 

Of the rising tide of life that issued from that 
ancient deep. 

Build your systems, Metaphysics ! Dream your 

dreams. Enthusiasm ! 
You will never find the Alpha, never bridge the 

yawning chasm! 

Whether countless universes ran their courses 

one by one 
Ere the present Wondrous Order its ascending 

race begun 

Leave to childish minds that love to chase the 
rain-bow's hidden gold, 

Or to starveling logic-hunters that have left the 
shepherd's fold 

Just to stray in barren pastures, tired of Truth's 

green meadow-land, — 
Just to thirst mid sage and cactus, Winded with 

the drifting sand. 

3 



Ask no final Whence ? nor Whither ? 'Tis enough 

for you and me 
If we mark the sea-weed drifting in that warm 

primaeval sea, 

For potential in that floating swarm of mute 

Eoic life 
Lies the soul of man awaiting its development 

through strife. 

How the green life chmbs the sea-shore, mounts 

the everlasting hills ! 
How the blind touch grows to eyesight! How 

sensations grow to wills ! 

And a thousand forms of creeping, running,, 

leaping, flying things 
Battle for the Earth's dominions like hereditary 

kings. 

Battles royal red with carnage, myriads perished 

for the few, 
But the little band that conquered peopled all 

the earth anew. 

Coward blood and weakness perished, strength 
and royal blood prevailed, 

Till tlie lion's thews were born, and Jove's cloud- 
dwelling eagle sailed. 



Rose erect at length among them one more noble 

than the rest. 
Life superior slowly growing to supreme in 

head and breast. 



Heir of all that mind had conquered, son of half 

a million years, 
In his brain involved the greatness of a myriad 

dead careers. 

Reptile, bird, and beast had struggled, suffered 

and enjoyed that he, 
Crown of Life and Sum of Being, might fulfill 

the old decree: 

"Out of Chaos into Cosmos ! Out of darkness 

into light! 
Out of matter into spirit ! Out of blindness 

into sight!" 

Like a quiver stuffed with arrows from the 

armory of the past 
Brain and heart were armed with every shaft 

that mind had ever cast. 

Like the bearded grain that hoards within its 

narrow flinty cell 
Three months' sunshine. Soul imprisoned all the 

mystic light that fell 

From her blue skies overhead and from her 

silent stars of night, — 
Danae to the virile ages in their long incessant 

flight. 

Till a race was born that sometimes in its best 

embodiment 
Conquers Nature and compels her to subserve 

its own intent, 

5 



Makes a Caliban of lightning, rides the chariot 

of the seas, 
Ties the continents together, makes its dreams 

realities ! 

But impartial Nature levies on each race her 

fatal tax. 
Overplus in aught is purchased by a somewhat 

else that lacks. 

At each turning-point of races, as of men, they 

stand and choose, 
Conscious or unconscious, boots not, what to 

gain and what to lose. 

And we chose to stand erect with ample front 

expanded high, 
Masters of the fecund earth and lords of all the 

sea and sky. 



Gone therefore the thews that grappled, gone 

the armor of defense. 
Gone the hardihood that recked not, gone the 

keenness of the sense. 

Old Prometheus, manhood-maker, loosed the 
tongue, nor failed to teach 

Incoherent cries to mingle into man-uniting 
speech, 

Called the wild unsocial tribesman from the cliff 

and from the den, 
Made the village, chose the chieftain, gave new 

laws to social men, 
6 



Gave them flint and bronze and iron, kindled 

fire upon the hearth, 
Set the vestal in the home to guard the new and 

marvelous birth. 

Put the skins of beasts upon them, gave them 

flocks and lowing kine. 
Curved the plowshare, yoked the oxen, taught 

the elm to wed the vine, 

Marked the seasons, set the feast-days, gave the 
virgins dance and song. 

Wreathed the bowl of rich Lyaean whence the 
cup went round the throng. 

Centuries of centuries titanic daemons of Fore- 
thought 

With their ever-crescent forces daily, hourly 
moved and wrought. 

Till the vasty lump was leavened, man became 

self-conscious mind. 
And papyri kept the record of the deeds of 

humankind. 



But a sable thread was mingled in the growing 

web of life. 
At the earliest dawn of being Fear was born 

amid the strife; 

Then Life's field of darkness widened, broidered 
with a sable thread. 

And the Parcae's subtle weaving grew a chron- 
icle of dread. 



Starving from the fruitless chase the rude bar- 
barian in his tent 

Dreams of starting noble game and follows till 
the night is spent, 

Sees his comrades, shouts among them, lets the 

fatal arrow fly, 
Bickers o'er the fallen booty, — greets the new 

day's golden eye, — 

And the dreaming and the waking are one 

vision unto him, 
Real as the strength that unspent throbs within 

each lusty limb. 

While his body lies supine a subtle something 

wanders free, 
Seeks again the distant godland, climbs the 

mountain, skims the sea. 

Or, in hostile ambush fallen, screams and flies 

the demon shapes. 
Makes for the deserted body, wakes in anguish 

and escapes. 

So the dreamer's airy phantoms, shades of 

friends and enemies, 
Live for his untutored fancy Being's primal 

verities. 



When the long long sleep that wakes not with 
its white calm supervenes, 

And the chieftain's ghostly double wanders on 
in distant scenes, 
8 



Shout the assembled guests and kinsmen, shout 
the slaves of his domain, 

Wake ten thousand mournful echoes to recall 
him home again. 

Sit and watch the placid sleeper, drive the vul- 
tures from their prey. 

Till the ghastly rigor warns them of the shade's 
too long delay. 

Drunk perchance with undreamed splendor in 
the great ancestral Hall 

He forgets their ancient homage, hears not their 
despairing call. 

Honored in that Hall of Fathers, chief among 
the warrior hosts, 

He returns not to their yearning from the sun- 
set land of ghosts. 

Then the funeral pyre is built and high the 

honored corse is laid, 
Fire is kindled, to the flames a thousand votive 

gifts are paid, 

And the best-loved wife in transport leaps into 

the sacred fire, 
And the slaves make loud contention which shall 

mount the master's pyre, 

And his horse is slain beside him harnessed for 

the regal chase. 
And the stag-horn lance is brought him and the 

ponderous armored mace, 

9 



Long the funeral feast is kept, as suits the war- 
rior's high degree. 

Thousands heap the lofty barrow for immortal 
memory. 



But the earth is not the same earth, and the sky 

is less serene, 
For the empire of the Unseen claims allegiance 

of the Seen. 

Swift as thought, unseen as wind, unfelt but 

present everywhere, 
Lowers the ghostly Tyranny and broods the 

never-sleeping Care. 

Time revolves his swiftest cycles. Death, the 

harvester of Time, 
Thrusts his sickle in the nations, and men fall 

before their prime. 

Hind and hero fall together, chaff amid the 

golden corn. 
But the fallen hero only overlives the morrow 

morn. 

Thus with each translated warrior grows the 
unseen realm of shades: 

Will on will, a countless synod, earth and sea 
and sky invades. 

Till the very air is darkened, earth infected with 

a pest. 
And the ocean-stream roars round her with a 

demon-stirred unrest. 

10 



How the crushed souls writhe in anguish, how 
the mangled forms rebel 

'Twixt those millstones of despair, an upper and 
a nether hell ! 

For the all-beholding heaven from his brazen 

canopy 
Shakes the pitiless plagues upon them as the 

sun-god's arrows fly, 

Hurls the thunderbolts and hailstones, pours the 

devastating flood, 
Sends the legions of the hoar-frost, blights the 

fruit within the bud. 

While the old confederate earth-god, hoarding 
up the sun-god's beams, 

Feeds the Hydra of the fen and 'stills a poison 
in his streams. 



Fear, Life's first-born, child of panic, tyrant of 

the seeing eye, 
Slave of every unseen terror hung between the 

earth and sky. 

Gathers up her unhewn stones and heaps an 
altar to her foes. 

Where the blood of countless victims in propitia- 
tion flows ; 

Temples rise on every hilltop. Python sleeps in 

every cave, 
Voices fraught with fearful boding speak where 

oaks centennial wave, 
II 



Flights of birds athwart the heavens weave their 

meaning in the sky, 
Entrails of the slaughtered victim steam with 

hidden prophecy; 

Earth and air are dark with riddles and the 

omens never cease, — 
And it's oh for certain knowledge, for the crusht 

soul's health and peace! 

So betwixt the gods and men the sacerdotal 

caste is given, 
Shepherds of the people, first, to guard them 

from the wrath of heaven, 

But erelong grown crafty despots reaping where 

they have not sown. 
Zealous for the temple's treasure just to plunder 

for their own. 

War-gods ruled the tribal heavens, war-chiefs 
their vice-gerents stood. 

Blood was wine to god and hero, and the gods 
were drunk with blood. 

Tribe was swallowed up in tribe, and gens 
enslaved by hostile gens, — 

Perished discord and disunion, perished civic 
impotence, 

Conquered valor, conquered union, conquered 
right that strengthens might, 

Conquered cunning, craft and forethought, con- 
quered might that makes for right. 

12 



Myriad rills of civic manhood, gathered into 

widening streams, 
Rolled majestic down the ages bending to the 

despots' dreams. 

Bounded swift and ever swifter forward then 
the race of man. 

One by one the eastern empires swift but glor- 
ious courses ran, 

Till at length a conquering manhood, having left 

its Aryan home. 
Made the splendor that was Greece and made 

the glory that was Rome. 



Long the golden eagles brooded o'er the imperial 

seven hills. 
Long the Eternal City flourished, built a purple 

name that fills 

Ten long centuries with splendor. Rome, the 

mistress of the seas. 
Stretched her right hand to the westward, — 

Gaul unlocked her treasuries, — 

Stretched her left hand to the eastward, — Asia 

filled it with the spoils 
Of the old Levantine empires, cloth of gold and 

perfumed oils, — 

At her right foot lay the honors brought from 

Dido's ruined pile. 
At her left foot knelt the Egyptian with the 

offerings of the Nile, 
13 



While behind her rose the war-cries and the 
clash of German swords 

Driven o'er the Rhine and Danube with their 
wild barbarian hordes. 

Civic virtue, martial valor, justice and the reign 

of law, 
Hearts of oak and thews of iron, and the nations 

stood in awe ! 

When the Caesar's mighty hands the Janus- 
temple gates had closed. 

And beneath the mild Augustus all the happy 
world reposed. 

What Cassandra mid the purple could the im- 
pending fates foretell. 

While the poet's proudest vaunting unto all men 
sounded well; 

That the empire should be bounded only by the 

ocean-stream 
And endure to endless ages splendid as the 

Caesars' dream? 



But, alas ! the mighty rhythm of the age's up- 
ward surge 

Dooms all glory to extinction, even at its top- 
most verge. 

Roman valor drained in battle, virtue checked 

in her career. 
Turned to wealth and luxury nor dreamed that 

any doom was near, 

14 



Till the mocking legionaries set the Caesars' 
throne to sale, 

Swearing to the highest bidder with their thun- 
derous "All hail !" 

Soon the roving hordes that fretted on the 
Danube's burdened shore 

Saw the wealth and saw the weakness, saw and 
lusted more and more 

For the spoils of conquered kingdoms, for the 
booty of farm and town, 

Looked and lusted, leaped the barriers, on the 
eagles' nest swooped down. 

Wave on wave of primal darkness, pouring from 

the frozen North, 
Swept the Caesar from the throne and swept the 

glory from the earth, 

And the only light that glimmered in the uni- 
versal night 

Was the aftershine of Athens lingering round 
Byzantium's height. 



Centuries long that darkness brooded and the 
moon was blood on high 

And the stars forgot their office in the blackness 
of the sky. 

Came again the twin-born scourges, priestly 
mitre, royal sword. 

And the half-quenched powers of evil were re- 
quickened and restored. 

15 



Wild iconoclasts had smitten every marble into 

dust 
And consigned the precious parchments to the 

realms of moth and rust, 

Wan fanatics scourged their flesh and made with 
God's wide-flashing levin 

Life the worthless antechamber of an endless 
golden heaven, 

While the fierce, ambitious zealots armed with 

scaffold and with flame 
Raged to stifle human progress, strove the daring 

soul to tame. 

Flamed the fagots, flashed the axes, one by one 

the noblest fell 
Mid the solemn priestly mockery and the wild 

mob's fiendish yell. 

Then the herds of human cattle bent their necks 

beneath the yoke. 
Harnessed to a brutish service, patient to the 

driver's stroke. 

Yet the sleepless Soul of Nature, never thwarted 

of her end. 
Sowed the blood and calmly waited for the 

harvest, blood must send. 



But the thick-sown seeds of nations slumbered in 

the Empire's mould 
Though Life's May time could not wake thent 

from the Winter's lingering cold. 
i6 



Goth and Vandal, Celt and Saxon, and the 

tardier Muscovite, 
Were the dim prophetic promise of some far 

dawn's whitening light. 

For in God's seonic rhythms every fall beneath 

the plane 
But foredooms a rise above it, — every loss is 

crowned with gain. 

Thanks to thee, O blinded Turk, the heathen's 
dread, the christian's scorn ! 

Thanks and hail, O glorious city, guardian of 
the Golden Horn ! 

Gallant Winkelried of nations, dying that a 

world might live, 
Thou hast given in ample measure all that mortal 

strength can give. 

When the Moslem hordes came sweeping thou 
didst bare thy warrior breast, 

Sheathe the death within thy heart and win the 
victory for the West, 

And thy purple life-blood scattered through the 

nations of the earth 
Warmed the dreary winter midnight, quenched 

at last the age-long dearth, 

Turned the face of manhood forward, lifted up 

the spirit's eye, 
Wrought the new birth of a world, and set 

Hope's radiant star on high. 

17 



Greece reborn and Rome rewakened! Though 
the cowled monastics raved, 

From their crypts the precious hundredth of the 
morning Hght was saved. 

Had the Scarlet Sibyl sitting muffled in her Cave 

of Night 
Offered to the heedless Ages all her hundred 

leaves of light, 

And at each refusal scattered half the treasure 

to the winds, 
Till, despairing, she had flung the remnant to 

her shaven hinds? 

Or with long unsated hatred had she hunted 

down the light 
Till it found a long asylum in her dungeon's 

kindly night? 

Little recked the patient scholar how the precious 

leaves were lost, 
While he drank the golden Wisdom that his soul 

could not exhaust. 

How the eyes grew dim with searching, how the 
hands with toil grew weak! 

How the fires that burned within him turned 
to ash upon his cheek ! 

But the World-soul flamed within him, and a 

thousand kindred lives 
Glowed like purple clouds of dawning when 

their radiant god arrives. 
i8 



Woke the giant Demos starting, night's dark 
mantle half withdrawn, 

Moved his mighty limbs and struggling turned 
his huge face to the dawn, 

And the nations felt a shudder running under 

altar and throne 
As of earthquake under cities dreading to be 

overthrown. 



Pair Italia, bride of Athens, mother of the 
modern world. 

Thine the daring Ocean-tamer who with faith- 
led sails unfurled 

Westward braved the saragosso on the salt sea's 
stagnant verge. 

Braved the faithless compass needle, and Atlan- 
tic's stormiest surge, 

followed still with hope and wonder, cheered by 
seabirds' landward flight. 

Gazing from his lofty flagship till a New World 
hove in sight. 

Thine the bards and thine the scholars who with 

dauntless energy 
Toiling mid the wrecks of Time restored the lost 

Antiquity. 

So the dreams of men were widened by thy 

gifts, O lavish land, 
And the souls of countless thousands felt their 

little world expand. 

19 



Life drew meaning from the vastness of its 
long inheritance, 

Earth gave promise in the vistas of her measure- 
less expanse. 

When the German built his presses and swift. 

cunning multiplied 
Thousandfold the scriveners' hands the Demon 

of the Darkness died. 

Quickening leaves with morning light sped over 

all the waiting earth, 
And the yearning soul of genius leaped and came 

to marvelous birth. 



Woke the giant Demos struggling like a lion 

from his lair, 
Dashed the sleep from out his eyes, and shook 

the dews from out his hair, 

And the trembling nations grappled to maintain. 

their empery ; 
Yet the triple crown was shivered in the giant's 

victory. 

Stalked the Titan through the nations, snatching 

here a kingly crown, 
Planting there a human right, there putting 

proud Assumption down, 

Till at length he built a nation hewn from virgin 

wilderness 
Where the dragon of Oppression nevermore- 

should find access. 

20 



Grandest Age of all the ages since the march of 

mind began 
From the dull unconscious atom to the crowning 

type of man, 

Heir of all the countless ages, son of half 

a million years. 
In thy purple youth embodied strength of 

myriad strong careers, 

Noble bards sang round thy cradle, and a glor- 
ious burst of song 

Filled and thrilled thy youth with music that 
reechoes loud and long; 

Not the songs of helmed heroes flashing through 

the imbattled host, 
Nor of tempest-driven sailors touching every 

charmed coast. 

Not the maddening dithyrambics filled with 

ruddy Bacchus' praise. 
Nor the lays of unveiled Venus set to feast the 

public gaze, 

But the songs of human yearning and of pur- 
pose chaste and high. 

Songs of love's imperious passion quenched by 
pitiless destiny, 

Songs of vernal greenth and beauty and of pure 

autumnal gold. 
Songs of summer woods and bird-notes, songs 

of harvest hundredfold, 



21 



Songs of hoary Ocean panting 'neath his 

burdened argosies, 
And of happy havens taken after stormy 

voyages, 

Odes to Freedom, odes to Victory, and the free- 
man's battle hymn. 

Shouts of patriot exultation while the mortal eye 
grows dim, — 

Songs of inner mystic beauty, songs of perfect 
form and grace. 

Flowers of heart and soul that make the crown- 
ing glory of our race. 



''Alma Pax !" the new Age groaned with all the 
patient power of prayer, 

But the immortal gods were deafened by the 
brazen trumpet's blare. 

War's loud front and horrid hair were shaking 
terrors through the world. 

And his blood-red banner waved to every stormy 
blast unfurled. 

Now his hounds are kept in leash a-snarling in 

their secret dread, 
Keeping peace by daily wasting Europe's tithes 

of wine and bread. 

For the hand of Toil grown thrifty, fostered by 

an armed peace. 
Clutches at the Demon's throat and bids the red 

destruction cease, 

22 



Though in Afric's vast dominions and degen- 
erate Cathay 

Thrift lets loose the dogs of war to open Trade's 
untrammeled way. 



Yet the Soul of Manhood dreaming sits upon 

his central throne 
Forging with unfailing prescience times unborn 

and realms unknown. 

Centuries long the Dream broods on though 
tides of wrong surge wild below, 

Broods above the sightless tumult while the ages 
come and go, 

And the floods grow calm and calmer as the 

cycles whirl away, 
Till the Dream is regnant Truth and nations 

come beneath its sway; 

Then a new Dream of the Ages mounts to Man- 
hood's awful throne, 

Broods and conquers through the cycles till the 
whole world is its own. 

So the hard unbending Real which with cruel 

strength compels 
Man the helpless worm to creep and eat the dust 

wherein he dwells. 

Yields to the Eternal Manhood brooding through 

his silent years. 
And the Man, his dreams made flesh, mounts up 

through widening careers, 

23 



Grasps the wheel with conscious hand, the pilot 
of Earth's stormy bark, 

And with eyes on God's stars gazing guides the 
nations through the dark. 

Mounting so with firm foot planted on the 
wrecks of conquered wrong, 

Man, embodied Cosmic Hope, stands forth at 
length a titan strong. 

Wrestles with the dragon-brood that still his 

upward way infest. 
Cheered amid the mortal conflict, girded for the 

endless quest. 



Happy Age that saw the shackles burst from 

fifty million hands, 
Saw the hunted beast of burden, trembling in the 

marish lands, 

Into man transformed, transfigured, cleansed by 
streams of precious blood 

Poured in red unstinted measure, — millionfold 
baptismal flood, — 

Whose red chrism has healed the nations ! O ye 

Freemen ! O ye Just ! 
Shall we stand as idle dreamers o'er our fallen 

patriots' dust 

And permit the sons of freemen in our land to 

be enslaved, 
Unprotesting when the injustice falls on him our 

fathers saved? 
24 



But the Age rolls on above them, and the evil- 
doer dies, 

For the tide of Life is setting toward the side 
where justice lies. 

Happy Age that saw the monarch sinking to the 

servant's place, 
And the free man rising regnant o'er the tyrants 

of his race ! 

Happy Age that saw the priesthood sinking into 
slow decay. 

And the free soul mounting regnant into heav- 
en's glorious day ! 

Happy Age that saw the letter perish from the 

sacred page, 
And the spirit shining regnant in the soul life 

of the sage ! 

Happy Age that saw a chaos leap into a universe 
At the magic touch of science, Truth dispel the 
ancient curse. 

Drive the demons from the air, and drive the 
gods from out the sky. 

Purge the earth of half her evil bidding all her 
follies fly ! 

Happy Age that saw the Yonder fading from the 

dreams of men. 
And the Now of Love's occasion dearer than a 

ghostly Then ! 
25 



Happy Age that conquered distance, brought the 

heavens down to man, 
Narrowed all the hostile oceans to a river's 

friendly span. 

Saw the far horizon lift and distant nations 
heave in sight, 

Saw the isolated burgher grown at length cosmo- 
polite ! 

Happy Age that conquered time, the hoar ally of 

distance gray, 
Changed the centuries to years, and crowded 

seasons in a day, 

Flasht the lightnings, sped the couriers, keeping 
thought's impetuous pace, 

Sent the electric thrill of manhood widening 
down the human race ! 



Lo, a hand unveils the ages, flashing on my 

startled sight, 
And a voice of power prophetic cries from out 

the darkness, 'Write !" 

See ! Two mighty rival races filling all the happy 

earth, 
Rivals still in glorious deeds but conscious of 

one common birth. 

Gone the tread of armed feet, and gone the 

champing battle-steed. 
Breathes the gentle Ocean-stream from all his 

hostile navies freed, 
26 



Sunk in quiet beds of ooze and lost a hundred 

fathoms deep 
Lies the last death-belching monster muzzled in 

Lethean sleep; 

Glides the plowshare through the ruins of the 

forts of old renown, 
Harvests wave with golden hope where stood 

the ancient walled town; 

Marshes drained, saharas watered, harnessed 
winds and cataracts. 

Tropic belts of tangled Eden wrought to habit- 
able tracts; 

Gone the city's crowded space that bred a ver- 
min race of men, 

Gone the pest-infected airs exhaled from Vice's 
reeking den; 

Happy millions dwell in peace dispersed on fer- 
tile vale and down. 

Here an orchard-scented hamlet, there a park- 
embosomed town; 

Rich and poor forgotten evils, crime and sick- 
ness slunk away 

Shamed and conquered by the beauty of the 
soul's untrammeled sway; 

Flesh made pure and sweet within, the temple 

of a chastened life, 
Dead the feud of body and soul and closed the 

passions' blinding strife; 

27 



Birth the sacrament of hope, and death the old 
man's crowning grace, — 

Hallowed sunset after sunrise, — keeping still an 
equal pace 

That no earth-born soul by climbing cause an- 
other soul to fall, 

But our Mother's ample bosom be the nourisher 
of all ; 

Less and less the Code's compulsion, more and 

more the inward Law, 
More and more disintegration of the power that 

holds in awe, 

More and more new integration by the bonds of 

free consent 
To the Inward growing Outward — social life's 

embodiment ; 

Gone the hope of selfish heavens, come the faith 

in deathless deeds. 
Sunk the individual wish in serving universal 
• needs, 

Will and Fate at length consenting, Life far- 
seeing and sublime. 

Reaping now in wise content the harvests of the 
Coming Time. 



''Prophet!" cries the voice of thunder; "leap a 

hundred ages back! 
Lo, the nations, how they struggle in the old 

war-beaten track! 
28 



Speaking courteous words of peace but cram- 
ming brutish arsenals, 

Turning wholesome bread and wine to monster 
navy-sinking shells ! 

These must perish from the earth and lose their 
curst inheritance ; 

Dying now the Latin nations, dying even glor- 
ious France — " 



But a wreath of smoke low trailing hides the 

vision from my sight, 
And the deafening wheels of commerce drown 

the voice that bade me write. 

O ye clamorous sons of Trade ! Alack, the per- 
ilous thirst for gold ! 

Worship still the least erected of the fallen gods 
of old? 

From the valley of the shadow of that gilded 

thing. Success, 
Lift your eyes, O burdened nations, to the hills 

of Helpfulness ! 

Hear the call of the Ideal like a trumpet from 
the van. 

Gird your loins and quit the valley for the dawn- 
lit heights of man. 



Grandest Age of all the ages since the march of 
mind began 

From the dull unconscious atom to the crown- 
ing type of man, 
29 



Vale ! Vale ! Strokes of midnight ! And a solemn 

passing hour ! 
Vale! Vale! Parting splendor, shall we mourn 

thy passing power? 

Salve! Salve! Turn we forward from the sable 

funeral car! 
Salve ! Salve ! Mightier Aeon, heralded by Love's 

own star! 

Star of all the countless ages, Hesper of the ages 

gone, 
Phosphor of the unborn aeons, Hesper-Phos- 

phor. Night and Dawn ! 

How the heart leaps up to greet thee, Bringer of 

a mighty hope, 
Light that lightens down the darkness where the 

infant nations grope ! 

Heir of all that mind has conquered, son of half 

a million years. 
Sharer of all vital progress, seed of endless new 

careers, 

Thirty circles of the months have fed my soul 

ambrosial food. 
And I pour a full libation to the Roman god that 

stood 

At the entrance of the years, and may he grant 

one prayer to me. 
That my steps may pass the midmost milestone 

of the century, 
30 



That my eyes may see the fruitage of the seed 

this age has sown, 
That my hands may sow a harvest greater than 

the world has known. 

(I, the type J not I, the ego, held aloof from in- 
tercourse, 

Egotist of egotists that hold myself the uni- 
verse.) 

Hail, O Brothers ! Hail, O Helpers ! By a cosmic 

law divine 
All my work is wholly yours and all your work 

is wholly mine. 

Through ye only have I strength to mould me to 

the cosmic plan, 
Million brained and million handed, millionfold 

a manly man ! 

Hail, Democracy, the star-eyed, climbing from^"^ 

the ancient mire. 
Trampling down their crowns and scepters who 

forbid thee mounting higher! 

Spread thy palm above all nations, teach all peo- 
ples to be free. 

Banish war's red pestilence, and bring the golden 
age to be, 

Tear the bandage from the eyes of partial Jus- 
tice that her sword 

Smite the votarists of Pluto till their stolen 
gold's restored, 

31 



That her scale-beam tip as lightly for the weak 

as for the strong, 
And her judgments ring out clearly through the 

clamorous cries of wrong. 

Lift the torch of Reason higher, set it by the 

lamp of Faith, 
Till their light forever banish Superstition's 

sheeted wraith. 

Warm the heart, expand the brain, and make the 

spirit large and free, 
Till we reach the godlike selfhood and devote 

our strength to thee. 

And beyond our power of asking lead us upward 

into light, 
Overrule us when we stray and strengthen only 

in the right! 

Hail, Democracy, the star-eyed, mounting ever 

to the stars ! 
Hail to thee whose day is brightening with the 

century's morning bars ! 



Slowly moves the hand of Progress o'er the dial- 
plate of Time, 

Till we half despair to see it move beyond the 
hour of prime. 

But if life appear to linger, nations halt or back- 
ward creep, 

'Tis the stalwart athlete, Nature, backing for a 
mightier leap. 

32 



Shall we curse the age as senile just because our 
hair is gray, 

Count that light and hope are dead since even- 
ing glooms about our day? 

Life is young, Time's latest born, his arch of 
promise lingers yet 

Resting on its charmed gold, Youth's goal for- 
ever onward set. 

Aye the young man's dreams are truest, and the 

burnt-out fires of age 
But the dead and dying camp-fires of each last 

preceding stage. 

O despair not, men and brothers, deeming hu- 
man nature weak! 

Toothless age must ever mumble through hia 
snow-heaped hollow cheek,, 

That the year is growing cold and the harvest- 
fields lie dead, — 

Stubble where he hoped for blade, and sunlight 
changed for skies of lead. 

When ten thousand ages toiling fashioned man 
their crowning work, 

Shall we find that potent seeds within his in- 
most being lurk, 

Waiting only fair occasion to expand to hideous 

life 
And destroy the rarest fruitage of developmental 

strife? 

33 



What a million years have made no less than 
million years can mar. 

Then despair not, men and brothers, though per- 
fection lingers far, 

For we judge as simple children when we make 

our little day 
God's criterion of progress and the measure of 

his way. 

Forward ! then the century's birth-cry ! Forward ! 

still the cry of Youth ! 
Forward ! yet the hope of manhood ! Onward to 

the goal of Truth ! 

Forward! though the days be gray that follow 

morning's purple bars ! 
Forward! for the darkest night is ever thickest 

sown with stars ! 

Come, thou hoped-for happier Aeon, sung by 
bards, by seers foretold. 

When the earth shall bask in sunlight of her 
lordlier Age of Gold ! 

Or, if floating in the distance far beyond our 

power to seize. 
Drop the mirage of its splendor just beyond our 

certainties, 

That the glamour of Time's promise, hovering 

o'er the horizon line. 
May compel its own fulfilment in the evolving 

Life divine ! 
Dec. 26, 1900. 

34 



A GRAY DAY. 



A gray day 
For a May day 
And a gloom in the heart for me I 
O the puppet play! 
And they dance as gay 
As the crickets leap 
In a scented heap 
Of new-mown hay ! 
And I, ah me, 
The one in a million to see ! 

II 

A ghost hand 
From the coast-land 
Whither all things hurry and flee! 
O the unseen hand! 
How its fingers expand 
And clutch at the wires! 
And the play retires 
To the shadowy strand. 
And I, ah me, 
The one in the million to see ! 
35 



Ill 

A chess game, 
(A mere dress game,) 
With helpless pieces aboard ! 
O the bootless game ! 
Knights fall for fame 
As the pawns for food 
Or the Ermine's good, 
Kings checked the same ! 
And I, ah me. 
One conscious pawn in the horde ! 

IV 

A ghost hand 
From the lost land 
Whither all things stagger and reel! 
O the cold mist hand! 
Its fingers are spanned, 
And knight and pawn 
And bishop are gone 
And the game is banned ! 
And I, ah me, 
The one in the million to feel! 

V 

A blind law, 
(Were't a kind law? 
Which the uttermost stars obey ! 
O the pitiless law ! 
An insatiable maw 
Engulfs all lives. 
And what survives 
Has tooth and claw. 
And I, ah me, 
Must prey, or become a prey I 
36 



VI 

I could dream, 
(O a good dream!) 
That the fecund years might see 
The dusk grow to gleam, 
The ice burst to stream, 
The thistle make room 
For the rose to bloom, 
Use and beauty supreme ! 
But this, ah me, 
Takes the millions of years to be ! 

VII 
A clear voice. 
And a near voice. 
Speaks out of my soul to me. 
O the sweet clear voice ! 
O freedom of choice 
That the clear voice speaks ! 
O the light on the peaks 
Where the dawns rejoice ! 
But I, ah me. 
The message is false, I can see! 

VIII 

It grows old. 
Ay, it grows cold. 
For suns and systems will die! 

O the spaces untold ! 

Worlds of worlds manifold 

All coming to naught! 

O why were they wrought 

To perish in cold? 
And I, ah me. 
To breathe but one instant and die ! 

37 



IX 

What discord 
With this chord 
Struck sharp from the lyre of my soul ! 
O the trembling chord ! 
Like the thrust of a sword 
In a valiant heart 
Is the poignant smart 
Of Fate's stern word. 
For I, ah me, 
Am a part to be ruled by the whole ! 

X 

O the gray day, 
The lost May day, 
And the gloom in the heart for me! 

O the puppet play ! 

Let it dance away 

As the crickets leap ! 

Let them blindly keep 

Life's holiday, 

Though I, ah me, 
Am fated to feel and to see ! 

April 24, 1900. 



38 



BEN HADAD. 

Ben Hadad toiled along an endless road, 
A massy wall of stone on either hand, — 

Mecca his goal — and ever as he strode 

His sandals crushed into the yielding sand. 

Bowed down beneath a shapeless heavy load 
With anxious eye the narrow way he scanned. 

One day — no whit less weary than the rest — 
Ben Hadad heard swift footsteps from behind, 

Yet turned not to behold the pilgrim guest — 
Whose haste betrayed him godlessly inclined — 

But labored undistraught like one possessed 
Of some diviner passion than his kind. 

"Allah be praised, who made this glorious day, 
Good friend, and dropped it fresh from Para- 
dise 
To lighten pilgrim feet upon their way ! 

The heart leaps up to see such sapphire skies 
Arch spotless o'er earth's festal cup of clay 
Where Allah mingles priceless wines and 
spice !" 

"A drunken word, and blasphemous as well!" 

Ben Hadad answered, plodding on apace. 
He saw not how unwonted shadows fell, 

Cast by the radiance of his fellow's face, 
Nor marked the queer round shoulders — like the 
swell 
Of sleeping wings — that marred his tunic's 
grace. 

39 



"A spotless sky? What madness this, I pray? 

Spiced wine ! 'Tis by our holy word forbidden ! 
Our prophet spoke naught of 'a glorious day.' 

What he revealed not is most wisely hidd».n. 
Look to your feet, and keep the narrow way, 

A blameless walk, a spotless soul unchidden." 

'Xook up, Ben Hadad ! Trust the living eye !" 
The shining guest replied, and smiled benignly : 

"Old laws decay and with their givers die. 
But Allah still renews himself divinely 

To heart and soul that ever open He 

To Truth and Beauty. Take not thus supinely 

Life's arduous gifts. These walls on either hand 
Though scarce breast high, shut out the world 
from you. 
Behold the olive groves that dot the land. 

The gardens and the lilied fields in view, 
Tne palm's tall hostelry by zephyrs fanned 
That waves mute welcome to the pilgrim 
crew." 

''Allah forbid!" Ben Hadad straight replied: 
"Though I had faith beyond the prophet's 
measure, 
I would not rise. To prove a madman lied. 
What saint would jeopardize his earthly treas- 
ure? 
This sacred pack upon my shoulders tied 

I'll scarce discard to do a stranger pleasure." 

"Pray, what unshapely thing is this?" he cried, 

And smote the burden with his knotty staff. 

Great clouds of dust burst forth on every side. 

40 



The shining guest pealed forth a hearty laugh : 
"An ancient bed, I'll warrant, true and tried, 
By daily use worn down to musty chaff." 

"Have you no rootage in the sacred past? 

No treasures rescued from the pirate years? 
No priceless old memorials that last 

From age to age? Pour forth your vollied 
sneers, 
Rash infidel, I care not for the blast. 

The ear alone such idle mocking hears." 

"An inventory !" And again that laugh. 

Ben Hadad answered with indignant grace: 
"A bronzen tablet with an epitaph 

Snatched from the tomb of him who sired our 
race ; 
A foot-worn doorsill, broken quite in half. 

The threshold of our first abiding-place; 

"A tent-cloth stained by sun and morning dew, 
My grandsire's shelter when he fled from 
home ; 

A sword-hilt, set with gems, wherewith he slew 
A templar-knight ; a crescent from the dome 

The sheik, my father, built in Kambalu, 
Beside the infidel's huge hippodrome; 

"My mother's loom; a lock of silver hair; 

The prophet's holy word securely bound ; 
My swaddling clothes; an old illumined prayer; 

The collar of my brother's faithful hound; 
The crib that knew a nurse's watchful care 
When childhood's dreamless sleep enswathed 
us round. 

41 



"These have I kept, though grieved at heart to 
know 

So much must perish of no meaner worth. 
These will I keep, and when at last I go 

To Allah's bosom, and forsake the earth, 
My son shall have the pack, and I bestow 

My wayworn sandals to increase its girth. 

''Allah is God. He shall not lose through me 
One tittle of his world's uphoarded gain!" 

Ben Hadad ceased. His fellow wept to see 
The tortured form, the martyrdom of pain, 

And sighed: "Allah is God! May he set free 
Ben Hadad' s soul from all its labors vain ! 

'Xose all and gain all !" Here the angel guest 
Touched with his staff the vast unshapely pack. 

Its cords in sunder broke at this behest. 

The huge bulk rolled in dust from ofif his back. 

Ben Hadad rose erect with startled breast 
And saw no more the narrow beaten track. 

He saw the sapphire skies, the olive groves. 
Gardens and lilied fields on either hand, 

White cornfields waving, flights of turtle-doves, 
And lofty palms by gentle breezes fanned, 

Sheep on a hundred hills, cattle in droves, 
And happy towns that dot the pleasant land ; 

And o'er him, mounting in seraphic flight. 

His guest. He smiled, and fell upon his face 
And died. For joy at that unwonted sight. 
Or from despair, none knew. But Allah's 
grace 
Upon his corpse, in death's benignant light, 
Of that first smile preserved the blessed trace. 

42 



THE BALLAD OF THE GOOD SHIP 
"DAUNTLESS." 

Three weeks with never a breath of wind 

Off Wynland's marches moored 
The captain's good ship 'Dauntless' lay 

With all her crew on board. 
Her flag hung dead at her tall masthead, 

No ripple round her poured. 
The sea-birds circled overhead 

And screamed across the fjord. 

The grizzled captain paced the deck, 

He strode impatiently. 
His eye now marked the frozen land, 

Now swept the western sea. 
Upspake the mate in sore estate: 

''O captain, sennights three 
We've waited the rising of the wind. 

What may the matter be?" 

43 



The captain raised his sullen glance, 

He lifted his hand to the sky: 
"Why serve we longer the great White Christ 

Who thrones with God on high, 
When a Wynland hag with a tattered rag 

His rule can thus defy? 
The hand that is far when help is cried 

For harm can not be nigh !" 

Then spake the pilot, a man of blood, 

And a mighty oath he swore: 
"O captain, give me your goodly sword 

And of men a gallant score. 
I'll scour the land on every hand, 

I'll hunt through mountain and moor, 
Till I bring you this hag with her tattered rag, 

In chains from yon frozen shore." 

''Go, take my sword and of men a score. 

And bring me the sisters weird !" 
"O women weird, ye feel my power. 

No longer are ye feared. 
Now give me a breeze to skim the seas, 

Or by Beelzebub's beard 
I'll perch your heads on the tall masthead!" 

His words the pilot cheered. 

"Ho, ho!" they cried, those sisters weird: 

"Fair winds hath this tattered rag. 
Three pounds tobacco, a pipe apiece, 

Three guineas of gold in a bag. 
And the captain's ship shall dance and skip 

And never a moment lag 
Till English wives and EngHsh babes 

Shall greet his homeward flag." 

44 



The captain took their hell-wrought clout, 

But a crafty man was he. 
He smote the captives with his sword. 

The crew cheered merrily. 
That magic shred to the tall masthead 

The captain nailed in glee. 
Three knots in a string, and a tattered rag, — 

Three winds he held in fee. 

He clove the first knot with his sword. 

A wind rose steady and strong. 
"Home, homeward bound!" the pilot sang, 

The crew joined in the song. 
Right merrily sped she straight anead 

All day and all night long. 
The sea-birds scream across the main. 

The sea-beasts round her throng. 

His good sword clove the second knot. 

The wind, it blew a gale. 
It veered now east, it veered now west. 

The mate grew ghastly pale. 
The good ship lunged, she leaped and plunged, 

And shuddered with straining sail, 
But she held her way for a night and a day, 

Though waves dashed o'er her rail. 

"Ho, ho! my good ship rides the storm," 

The burly captain cried: 
"The gale in the cordage whistles and howls, 

Such song is the seaman's pride. 
So gallantly borne, by the morrow morn. 

At anchor we shall ride, 
And EngHsh wives and English babes 

Shall gather at our side." 

45 • 



His good blade leaped and clove once more. 

The gale, it grew a blast. 
The billows leaped, the good ship crashed, 

The captain stood aghast. 
For straight ahead from the ocean's bed 

A rock rose ribbed and vast. 
The loosened demons shrieked and laughed 

As on to her doom she passed. 

The White Christ smiled on the waters wild, 

They grew as smooth as glass. 
Next morn on a wild and unknown coast 

A wide-eyed fisherman's lass 
At play on the sand of the salt sea strand 

Saw floating corpses pass ; 
But never a priest in all the land 

For their wandering souls said mass. 



MID CLOVER BLOOMS. 

O to lie mid the tangled blooms, 

A child of Earth and the blue Jrme skies. 
And list to the song of the bumblebees 
That tipsy with honey go tumbling over 
From head to head of the purple clover 
That swing in the clutch of their golden knees! 

O to lie 'neath the blue June skies 
In tune with the life of the scented glooms! 

46 



The cricket sings where the golden light 

Is quenched in the dusk of the standing grass, 
And the grasshopper climbs to the topmost leaf 
To bask in the sun of rare midsummer, 
A holiday guest and chance new-comer, 
That drains life's cup though the feast be brief 

Nor grieves at last o'er the empty glass 
As he drifts in dream to the voiceless night. 

The katydid calls from her leafy bower. 

And a boisterous sisterhood over the way 
Affirm and deny with impetuous zeal, 
A gossiping town without purpose or guerdon. 
Till the garrulous hedgerow grows a burden. 
While the shrill cicada with mail of steel, 

From his tall acacia startles the day, 
And stabs with his song the noontide hour. 

O white cloud floating in liquid blue. 

That driftest so lazily over my head! 
A breath blew out of the west at morn, 
And out of the void of the fleckless ether. 
Rejoicing to greet fresh fields beneath her, 
A feathery form, sweet cloud, was born ! 

Shall her bright life for their thirst be shed? 
Or melt in the blue sky whence she grew? 

O to lie in the scented glooms, 

A child of Earth and the blue June skies, 
And list to the voices of summertide. 
And feel the beat of life's mystic weaving. 
With an open heart life's gifts receiving, 
A pensioner willing on bounties wide ! 

O to lie 'neath the blue June skies. 
At one with the purple clover blooms ! 
Nov. 23, 1 90 1. 

47 



THE VANISHED WOODS. 

How changed the scene from what I knew. 
Sweet woods, when last we bade adieu ! 
The woodman's axe has loudly rung 
December's ice and snows among 
And chased each Dryas from her berth 
To feed some ravenous-throated hearth. 

Perennial woods I deemed ye then, 
Centennial peace for unborn men, 
A sacred gloom for revery, 
The nurse of star-eyed poesy, 
Sequestered shrine and husht retreat, 
Unstained by greed's unhallowed feet, 

And in your scented shades I nursed 
A Hfe in richest dreams immersed, 
While numbers to the visions came, 
Songs careless of or name or fame, 
Where beauty seemed its own excuse 
And song the soul's most perfect use. 

Reclined full-length beside the stream 
That guiltless of day's garish beam 
Ran darkling down and gurgling broke 
O'er serpent roots of gnarled oak, 
I gazed upon one rift of blue: 
The softened radiance sifted through 

48 



And iris mingled with the green 

The drooping beechen boughs between, 

Until its far-off glory seemed 

The goal of all the poets dreamed. 

So lost in revery I lay 

And dreamed the golden hours away! 

O shameful idleness and sloth, 

Companion to the rust and moth ! 

O judge not so, poor dreamless friend; 

The lily of the field may spend 

Her whole sweet life 'neath unsought skies, 

Her cup unseen by mortal eyes. 

And yonder pink anemone 

That nods so lightly unto me 

Sits dreaming by the brooklet here 

In silence through the whole long year 

To bloom one week in modest wise 

For one chance pair of charmed eyes. 

In sooth, good friend, it seems to me, 
A dreamer born, howe'er it be. 
That idle dreams are food and drink. 
That one hour by a river's brink. 
Lapped cool in dappled shade, is more 
Than all your wise men's thrifty lore. 

O wasteful purblind prodigals 
Intent upon your barns and stalls. 
Heap high your stacks of yellow sheaves, 
Feed fat your herds of shining beeves. 
And take no thought for aftertimes, 
For aftertimes nor poets' rhymes. 

49 



Heap on the wood and toast your shins 
And snugly dream of bursting bins, 
Of widening fields of new-cleared land, 
Of virgin soil on every hand, 
Of log-heaps, smoking pioneers 
That make a way for whitened ears. 

sordid Comfort, full-fed Ease, 
Green-shuttered there 'mid orchard trees, 
For whom the rain of apple-blooms 

Is only sweeter than the glooms 
That linger round my beechen roots, 
By promise of autumnal fruits, 

1 thought that Greed had shunned this space 
To chaffer in the market-place. 

But lo, his hand is everywhere! 
Alas for all the good and fair ! 
His hand has slain my favorite trees. 
And all I loved are gone but these. 

O wasteful purblind prodigals, 
When the tornado madly falls. 
Unroofs your barns, and blinding rains 
Spoil half the season's garnered grains, 
When frost pulls up your clover-roots 
And blights in May your blooming fruits. 

When whole young orchards winter-kill. 
Unsheltered from the storm-king's will. 
When snowless wheatfields freeze and thaw. 
When crows o'er sprouting cornfields caw, 
When summer drought burns all things dry, 
And lawns are parched, and meadows die, 

50 



Then reave you hair and beat your breast 
And bring an offering of the best, 
Make feast with open heart and free, 
And plant each year some noble tree 
Those banished Dryads to placate 
And wrongs ancestral expiate ! 
June 2, 1900. 



A SONG OF RENEWAL 

Fling wide my garret window 

Here in my house on the hill, 
Far out in the edge of the city 

Where sounds of traffic grow still! 
I will lounge in the open casement, 

I will perch on the window-sill, 
To breathe for one moment, a freeman, 

And cast off my gyves with a will. 



Out yonder the fields are basking 

In July's golden glare. 
Ripening harvests of beauty 

In the languorous murky air. 
While here I perish of mildew. 

And rot with profitless care. 
Old books, adieu ! And my papers, 

Farewell ! Long truce to despair ! 

51 



I will fly this parchment kingdom, 

This mine of the Arimasps, 
This universe of vellum, 

Of leather and brazen hasps, 
Where the soul is pent and straitened 

In boards with double clasps, 
And the mind like a pinioned demon 

For freedom struggles and gasps; 

Where I feel like a marginal figure 

In purple and green and gold,. 
Done with an infinite patience 

By a dull old monk of old, 
As conventional, dead, and unmeaning. 

As the empty tale retold 
It illumined in gaudy splendor, — 

To crumble at last into mould ; 

For here the soul is a quarto. 

Or at best but a folio. 
And I long for the perfect unfolding 

That mortals seldom know. 
To lie spread out and unbroken 

In God's supernal glow. 
The Cloud-Compeller above me. 

The old Earth-Mother below. 

Out yonder the fragrant meadow 

Dotted with hay-cocks stands. 
I can hear the workmen's laughter 

As they ply their busy hands. 
Heaping the giant hay-bed 

As it creaks through the bottom-lands, 
Drawn like a car triumphal 

At some high-throned queen's commands. 

52 



Who guides yon rural progress? — 

No less than a queen, I vow! — 
'Tis the farmer's buxom daughter, 

As lithe as a nymph, I trow ; 
A golden rock-rose in her hat-band, 

Her nut-brown cheeks and brow 
Aglow with health and beauty 

That queens might envy her now. 

And over beyond the rail-fence. 

Mantled with ivy and vines, 
Where the purple ripe raspberry nestles 

And the evening primrose shines. 
The dead-ripe wheat is standing, 

Straw-broken, with pendant crines. 
And unchidden by stewards of Ceres 

The querulous sparrow dines. 

And down in the lower bottoms, 

Along the dreaming brook 
That winds down its slumberous valley 

In many a sickle's crook. 
Where willow and sycamore, stooping, 

At their sun-flecked images look. 
The cattle breast-deep are standing 

In many a shady nook. 

And away and around in the blue haze. 

To vision's uttermost bourn, 
In billows of green that from evening 

Run to the shores of morn, 
Round meadow and pasture and wheat-field. 

Stretches the sea of the corn. 
O why should the city's toiler 

Yon teeming paradise scorn? 

53 



For there is a tangled Eden, 

Where the trimmers' hands are too few 
To garner the gifts of Ceres 

While -serving Pomona as true. 
So wilding beauty runs riot, 

And the weeds, a rolHcking crew, 
Preempt every chink of the sunshine 

And stretch out their palms for the dew,- 

But see ! There's a pause in the haying ! 

The hay-bed, piled to the boom, 
Is ready to choke with its fragrance 

The barn's wide-throated room. 
Now the jug with its beaded coolness, 

Filled from the well's deep gloom, 
As dear as e'er flagon at banquet, 

Is haled from its tangle of bloom 

To gurgle around the circle 

From lip to laughing lip. 
Now deftly the farmer's daughter 

From its cool rim takes a sip 
To bless the draught for the workmen 

As its waters bubble and drip. 
Then here's to the Queen of the Harvest! 

Long live toil's comradeship ! 

No longer my soul shall tarry 

Wing-clipt in this ancient mew. 
I'll away to the fields and meadows 

Where living deeds are to do. 
I'll out in the dews at sunrise, 

I'll toil the long day through. 
And wear out this mildewed body 

And win me a soul anew. 

• 54 



And when the long day closes, 

And life has forgotten its husk, 
By the side of the farmer's daughter 

In odors dearer than musk, 
To the homestead nested in pine-trees 

That bite the sky like a tusk, 
To the goal of a rest supernal 

I'll walk through the cool sweet dusk. 



IMPERFECTION 

Never a summer breeze 

From his far sea-cradle blows 
But lingers among the gardens 

To sigh for one dead rose. 



55 



SONNET 

My letter was returned with seal unbroken. 

''Deceased!" Some cold official hand had 
traced 

The penciled euphemism in careless haste 
To send across the world the joyless token, 
That love's last word was left for aye unspoken. 

Dead? Is he dead with whom I daily chased 

The beauteous phantoms o'er great Homer's 
waste 
Wide ocean ? Shipwrecked Hes our vessel oaken ? 



O friends, why mock ourselves with gloomy 

fictions ? 
Broad seas and broader years have not the 

power 
To rob true friendship of one precious hour. 
We hold sweet converse still, — dare Fate's 

restrictions, — 
And face to face, whate'er cold reason saith, 
We'll wander through the world untouched by 

death. 



56 



UL 27 19^» 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



)Ut 2T »**■ 



